


why you gotta keep the fan on high when it's cold outside

by kusemono (Glitchgoat)



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, PWP, Riding, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15727113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitchgoat/pseuds/kusemono
Summary: 'Huh. Sou is a lot stronger than he looks,' Yamato thinks in the split second before gravity takes a hold and he falls back onto the bed with a whump. In the even splitter second before he hits the bed, a follow-up thought: 'that’s kinda hot.'





	why you gotta keep the fan on high when it's cold outside

**Author's Note:**

> ... just wanna let you know that i'm still a fan (get it)
> 
> yall know about the yamamitsu choking in the i7 police rabbit chats, and lemme tell you, im so on board; but may i present to you, from the same set: sougo mentioning going to yamato for advice on how to act like a pervert
> 
> anyway, dominant bottom sou riding yamato that's basically all this is

Yamato is, in fact, a saint. The most helpful goddamn person on the planet, an overflowing fountain of useful advice and sagely guidance.

_Apparently._

This is, it seems, only news to Yamato himself. He’s the last one to know, it seems, what with everyone seeing fit to come to him with questions—especially those regarding acting. Perhaps he hasn’t made it clear how much he’d rather shoot himself in the foot than be anyone’s acting coach.

Maybe he’s just a masochist, because he keeps doing it anyway. A new project – a police drama by the same writers as I7 Academy, because for some reason, whatever madmen penned I7 Academy haven’t been arrested yet – means a new slew of questions, and despite himself, he’s ended up doling out pointers as everyone tries to figure out what to make of their roles.

A gentle rhythmic knuckle-rapping, almost soft enough to miss, drifts into his room through the door. He debates ignoring it. It’s, what, half past nine? That’s more than late enough for him to pull the old man card and fake being asleep. These kids are lucky he’s not asleep at six when he doesn’t have anywhere to be.

He gets up anyway, if only to give a definitive _sorry, advice booth is closed, come back tomorrow_.

Just judging by the way his prospective guest knocked – almost apologetically, like the asking to intrude is, in and of itself, a heinous intrusion– he’s already certain he’ll find Sougo when he opens the door, and he’s proven 100% correct.

“What’s up, Sou,” he says, leaning against the door frame. He doesn’t pose it as a question so much as a statement; in addition to his wonderful philanthropic tendencies as outlined prior, Yamato is also a master detective, and he’s already piecing together what’s up. It’s not hard; Sou’s got the script for the police drama in his hands and vague consternation is scribbled in every furrow of his brow.

“I had a few questions that I was hoping you might be able to shed some light…” Sougo begins, standing up so straight and proper that Yamato begins to wonder if he’d tip over like a board if he poked him in the chest. Amused by the mental image, Yamato realizes he should pay attention to what Sou is about to ask him before he misses the question entirely.

“… so, if it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, I’d like some advice on how to approach the part, in regard to that.”

Called it.

Yamato opens his mouth, about to say that he was just about to go to sleep (a lie).

“Yeah, sure, why not.”

Dammit.

*

Yamato quickly realizes, entirely too late, that he should have been paying more attention, because never in his wildest dreams would he have assumed that Sougo was going to come to him asking for _lessons in depravity_ (or, at least, how to convey it). Maybe he should have read the script too, or paid attention to what Sou was saying, or just said no like he had originally intended to, but it’s too late to back out now.

On one hand, he does want to help Sougo out; on the other hand, there is no way in hell he is going to convey this in any kind of helpful way. He’s already determined that any way that makes Sou turn violent pink probably doesn’t count as helpful. This removes a lot of his options, and not just the fun ones.

(On a related note, he considered complaining about the fact that Sou came to him for pervert advice, but come on, he knows he has no room to be indignant. His first thought was something about _hands-on experience._ Come on.)

He’s been answering questions about the difference between _excitement_ and _arousal_ and about _fetishism_ and _fixation_ and _obsession_ for almost an hour at this point, and he’s running out of answers. Sougo is not running out of questions, and he hangs on Yamato’s every word. It’d be cute if it weren’t really, really exhausting.

“… so, yeah,” Yamato says, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “Spend some time staring at syringes or something until you feel something deep and primal awaken within you. Tap into that.” (Does he ever listen to the shit he says?)

 “Right. Got it,” Sougo says from his seat on Yamato’s bed, looking like a schoolboy taking notes, furrowing his brow and tapping his chin as he focuses on a spot in the middle of the floor. “That’s part of the fixation you mentioned, that makes sense…”

He doesn’t see Yamato roll his eyes, nor how he tries not to laugh. He gets up out of his chair, crossing the short distance to the bed and dropping down next to Sougo, patting him on the shoulder. “Yeah, you’re getting it,” he says dryly, and Sougo furrows his brow deeper.

“I don’t feel like I am,” Sougo says, shaking his head. “I think I’m just going to have to do more research—”

Yamato sighs through his nose, leaning back on his hands. Sougo is overthinking this, which, big surprise—sky blue, water wet, Sou overthinking. Research is only going to get him so far; he can imagine it now, Sougo trawling through a bunch of pulpy stories and movie clips to try and get into the mind of a degenerate, when it would be a lot easier to just—

…

 _Man,_ he thinks a bit bitterly, cutting off his own train of thought, _Sou really did make the right choice by coming to him._

“I mean,” he says before his brain can stop his big stupid traitorous mouth, “research only goes so far. You might need to practice a bit.” He means it at least fifty percent as a joke (and the other fifty percent needs not be remarked upon).

Sou turns to look at him curiously, and Yamato vividly remembers that Sougo will, as a rule, take his advice as writ. (Really, he ought to look into making Sou be a bit more assertive instead of deferring to him, but he may be the wrong person to do that—)

“I’d hate to impose,” Sougo says evenly, glancing away. It’s _cute_ and Yamato is – as his inner monologue reiterates – a world-class dumbass, as evidenced by the fact that he doesn’t immediately abort mission. “Especially with—the subject matter at hand.”

“S’fine,” Yamato says with a one-shouldered shrug. “I mean, you came to me for pervert advice for a reason, right?” he says with a wolfish smile, and Sou jolts.

“No! I mean, I did, but because of your experience as an actor, not because— I didn’t mean to insinuate— ”

Yamato barks a laugh. “Relax, Sou. It was a joke. It’s fine,” he says again, insists. Yamato rearranges himself so he’s sitting on the bed instead of off the side. “Hit me with your best shot. Sadist pervert doctor Sou. Sell it to me,” he says, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

Sougo hesitates for a moment before he nods. Yamato can practically see him going over his notes in his head, poring over things like sadism and obsession and arousal, and all the half-baked half-answers that Yamato had given him.

“You’ll stop me if I go too far, right?” Sougo says, glancing into Yamato’s eyes for confirmation.

“Sure thing,” Yamato says, throwing a mock-salute. Being honest, he more than half expects Sou to lose the nerve.

That’s not what happens.

What _happens_ is, before Yamato’s entirely sure what’s going on, Sougo swings a leg over Yamato’s lap. In the same moment, he presses his palm flat to Yamato’s chest and pushes.

 _Huh. Sou is a lot stronger than he looks,_ Yamato thinks in the split second before gravity takes a hold and he falls back onto the bed with a _whump_. In the even splitter second before he hits the bed, a follow-up thought: _that’s kinda hot._

He wasn’t planning on getting winded by being pushed back into a soft bed, but in truth, the mildly dizzy sensation is half being winded, and half the blood rushing out of his head.

“Well, that’s a start,” Yamato says blithely, glancing to the side. He’s not avoiding Sou’s eyes, he’s just really interested in the opposite wall all of a sudden, that’s all. He’s already realizing he may have made a mistake, and he wants to cut his losses before he makes things more awkward than they have to be.

He makes a token attempt to sit back up, but Sougo both has other ideas, and is also significantly _faster_ than Yamato expected him to be. In the space it takes to breathe, Sougo’s got his hands on Yamato’s wrists, not _pinning_ per se, but definitely pressing down with just enough pressure to curtail movement.

Yamato blinks and raises his eyes to Sou’s face. Sougo’s thin smile doesn’t reach half-hooded eyes as he presses down a little bit harder, and he huffs something that sounds like the precursor to a laugh, and--

Before Yamato can sort out why all of this is sending a jolt to his stomach (among other things), Sougo snaps back to reality. He immediately releases the pressure, sitting up with such rapidity that he may as well have been electrocuted.

Yamato, for his part, feels as though he’s had a bucket of ice water dumped on his head.

“I—” Sougo says, then immediately cuts himself off, going quite a nice shade of pink. “Ah—excuse me, Yamato-san, I—”

If Sougo can tap into that and turn it back off just like that, he does _not_ need Yamato’s help.

…

Yamato, _being a fucking idiot_ , decides to continue to offer his help anyway, because he’s just such a good person. (… right.)

“Man, and you were making progress, too,” Yamato says, letting his head fall back and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, sounding remarkably smooth for how much his tongue feels like lead.

“What?” Sougo says, blinking owlishly—he’s still straddling Yamato, but it seems that both of them are willing to overlook this for the time being.

A guilty kind of feeling rears in Yamato’s head, but he squashes it and presses on.  “Well,” he says off the cuff, “you had a good start, but you fell out of character. You gotta really embrace it if you want to sell it.”

Acting, right? Getting into character. It’s as good an excuse as any—which is to say, it’s a pretty shit excuse, but this feels like the kind of thing for which you need an excuse, even a bad one.

Sougo blinks a couple more times; Yamato gets the intense, immediate feeling that Sou sees through his ruse. The guilt he squashed down comes back with a vengeance; a dozen sirens go off in his head, screaming that this was a bad idea, he should _immediately_ run damage control and play it off, that Sou came to him for advice on acting like a pervert and he didn’t intend to learn by example—

“I—alright,” Sougo says, and he takes a deep breath. Before Yamato has the chance to consider the implications, entirely _different_ sirens go off at 200 decibels when Sougo shifts his body and very deliberately presses his ass against Yamato’s clothed erection, and those sirens only get louder when he – _extremely_ belatedly – realizes that _Sou’s hard too._

(Okay, so maybe scratch master detective off his list of skills.)

Yamato lifts his hands, perhaps aiming to put them on Sou’s hips, but before he can make contact, Sougo’s hands are on his wrists and in one smooth motion he has them decisively pinned.

“I didn’t say you could touch me, Yamato-san,” he says, smile sweet but tone of voice ice-cold. The honorific feels almost like a mockery, and Yamato was extremely not aware that he was into this. Yamato wants to say something to disrupt the tension and ease the mood, but words are suddenly really, really difficult. This is probably for the better, since anything he might have said vacates his mind immediately when Sougo rocks his hips again, and Yamato finds himself _really_ resenting that they’re both still fully clothed.

Sougo, thankfully(?), seems to be having the same thought. “Don’t move,” he says, tentatively releasing Yamato’s wrists. He obeys dumbly, keeping his hands where Sou left them. No longer preoccupied with keeping Yamato restrained, Sougo begins getting himself out of his pants and underwear.

What could have been awkward instead has Yamato’s rapt attention. The only complaint is that he does it a bit too fast—clearly, a future lesson will have to ramp up the sadism angle, right?

(Yamato is choosing not to deal with the fact that he’s already assuming anything about “future lessons”.)

A gentle tug is all the coaxing Yamato needs to lift his hips so Sou can relieve him of his pants. In a quick series of tugs, Sougo pulls Yamato’s pants and boxers down just enough to free his erection, leaving the rest in a tanged mess of fabric around his upper legs. As Sougo settles back into straddling him, he slides a hand up Yamato’s abdomen, shoving his shirt up to bare his stomach, as though just to admire the bare skin. He trails his fingers up Yamato’s stomach, and his hand continues its trek up even as it passes over his pushed-up shirt and, too gentle by far, up his throat.

Sougo comes to rest his fingers against Yamato’s lips, and despite himself, he opens his mouth to bark a kind of disbelieving laugh. He doesn’t get that far; the second his lips part Sougo’s pressing the pads of two fingers against his tongue and his mouth falls completely open.

“You’re supposed to suck them, not just lay there with your mouth open, Yamato-san,” Sougo says, very helpfully. Yamato doesn’t need telling twice; he closes his lips around the invading digits and is rewarded with Sougo rolling his hips against his dick again, and that makes the fact that Sougo has very little concern for not triggering his gag reflex almost completely overlookable.

Either too soon or not soon enough, Sougo pulls his fingers out of Yamato’s mouth. Yamato can’t quite form coherent sentences in the newfound emptiness of his mouth, but a thought jolts through him as Sougo drops his hand between his own legs and begins to work those spit-slick fingers into himself.

 _Spit isn’t going to be enough,_ Yamato thinks in a flash, a surge of concern that Sou is going to hurt himself by under-preparing. It’s an urgent enough thought that he finds the words for it despite his leaden tongue.  
“Hey, come on, don’t hurt yourself, Sou, I have—” he says, glancing to his bedside table; _of course_ he has lube near his bed, what kind of animal do you take him for? But before he can finish the sentence, Sougo cuts him off.

“I know,” he says, and the way his voice catches on a huffed breath when he twists his fingers inside himself makes Yamato’s head spin. “But I wanted _this_ first.”

The words sound bizarre and foreign coming out of Sougo’s mouth. Even so, the way he says _this_ is laden with meaning, and Yamato quite suddenly gets very light-headed as he puts two and two together.

Right. _Obsession_ or something, right?

Shit, he’s really getting into character.

(Maybe, he thinks, they’re both using the excuse.)

The look in Sou’s eyes is almost too much to take, intense and intent and laser-focused, half-hooded and hungry and Yamato casts his eyes to the side—or at least, he tries to. He turns his head away and the hand that Sougo is not currently working into himself grips Yamato’s face to pull him back.

“Watch, please, Yamato-san,” Sougo says and _swear to god every time he says Yamato’s name_ it becomes more laced with sugar and cyanide. It’s really not a request, if blunt nails digging into his face weren’t proof enough of that. Yamato has to bite back a horribly undignified noise and he nods, and Sougo lets go of his face.

He follows the instructions given to him, unable to do anything but watch as Sougo fingers himself, every little hiss and gasp and hitch of his breath seeming inhumanely loud, or maybe that’s just because Yamato’s unconsciously holding his breath.

Yamato somehow manages to miss the part at which Sougo reaches over to the bedside table to grab the innocuous little tube, but it at least puts his mild concerns to rest when Sou upgrades from preparing himself with saliva to an actual lubricant.  
Before he has the chance to really mentally catch up to this, Sou’s already giving Yamato’s dick a token couple of strokes with a lubed-up hand, and not moments after that, he’s lining up over him.

There’s a moment of resistance and then the breach and Yamato hisses through his teeth as every single thought that isn’t _holy shit, Sou’s tight_ gets violently sidelined. It edges right up to the border of painful, but Sou’s movement is steady even as his thighs shake. He stops about halfway down, and Yamato almost chokes on a groan.

“Hey, no, come on, Sou—” he sputters, almost bucks his hips, but he gets the distinct, instinctive feeling that he’d only make things worse if he did, and through a concentrated show of self-control he doesn’t, even as every agonizing millimeter that Sougo pulls out feels unbearable.

“Please shut up, Yamato-san,” Sougo says sweetly, not stopping his ascent, and Yamato chokes on air.

For a delirious moment he’s afraid that Sou’s going to pull off completely— that Sou’s gotten _way_ too into the villain thing. That fear is mercifully killed when he begins to press back down, a horrible steady-slow drop that can stop at any second.

And unfortunately, it does; Sougo gets further down this time, but he still pulls back up, and Yamato can’t completely stop himself from bucking his hips up. He tries to stop himself too late, and the motion is jerky and awkward; Sou doesn’t let him gain so much as a fraction of an inch.

“Behave,” he says in a mocking lilt and Yamato does _not_ care to examine why that sends something electric straight to the pit of his stomach. He cares to examine it even less when Sou enforces this by pressing a hand to Yamato’s chest, palm flat and fingers splayed, and even through his shirt the touch feels scorching-hot. It takes a significant effort for Yamato to keep his hands where they are.

His self-control pays off when Sougo drops back down and drops the pretense all at once, sinking down on Yamato’s cock until he’s hilted. There he stays for a few seconds; the shuddering breath that Sougo releases, satisfied, almost cooing, sounds both foreign and too dirty, and also practiced and right at home in Sou’s mouth.

(Yamato wonders if he hasn’t given Sougo enough credit.)

“Holy shit, Sou,” Yamato breathes, clenching and unclenching his fists in attempts not to move his hands.

In response, Sou bows down over Yamato and speaks directly into his ear:

“I said shut up, Yamato-san.”

It hits like a gut-punch and Yamato hopes, for the sake of his dignity, that Sou can’t feel the way his cock throbs.

Either way, it feels like an act of mercy when Sougo’s hands slide back up to pin his wrists down for the third time, relieving him of the responsibility of keeping them still himself.

He really wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself when Sou begins to move his hips, anyway. Sougo’s control only goes so far; now that he’s got Yamato all the way inside him his rhythm is a bit erratic, every time he pulls upwards seems reluctant and every slide back down is prolonged.

Sougo doesn’t object when Yamato lets his head fall back and his eyes slip closed. This, Yamato thinks deliriously, is more due to the fact that Sougo is completely enthralled in what he’s doing.

‘What he’s doing’ meaning ‘riding Yamato’s dick like his life depends on it, like he’ll die if he stops’.

Sougo releases one of Yamato’s hands, but Yamato – head back, eyes closed still – doesn’t see to what end. His immediate thought is that Sougo is releasing Yamato’s hand so he can start to get himself off.

Yamato is, as he very often is, _completely wrong,_ and he realizes this with incredible speed when he feels Sougo’s hand come to rest on his throat. Sougo doesn’t apply any pressure at all, doesn’t press down the slightest bit, but Sou’s slim fingers settle on Yamato’s neck, and—

Of the many, many things that he is choosing not to examine, why that – Sou’s fingers pressed up against his pulse as he bounces on his dick – is the thing that with shocking immediacy pushes him right up to the ledge.

“Sou hold on—” he sputters out, and he means it as a warning, but Sougo apparently takes it as an invitation, rolls his hips and clenches and that’s it, Yamato’s done for. He feels himself throb, and –judging by the full-body shiver that courses through him – Sougo feels it too.

As Yamato goes soft, Sougo makes a valiant attempt to continue riding him for a few agonizingly long seconds, until he settles into a gentle rocking. The hand that was on Yamato’s throat now does indeed fall to his own dick, which he has been neglecting this entire time.

Yamato feels a little better about his own lack of staying power when it only takes a few strokes for Sougo to get himself off. He gasps softly, goes vice-grip tight, and Yamato understands all at once why his shirt got pushed up earlier as Sougo comes across his abs, white splattered across too-hot skin.

There is a period of about three seconds, wherein Sougo is gazing down at his… handiwork, let’s say, with hooded eyes and that serene smile still pulling at his lips. (Yamato etches the image into his memory _immediately_.) It only lasts that short time, though.

“Holy shit, Sou,” Yamato says, because he’s a master of words. Like a spell has been broken, Sou blinks a couple times.

Sou’s face starts to turn a _fascinating_ shade of pink, and Yamato barks a laugh.

He decides that he’s going to start giving out a bit more acting advice.

**Author's Note:**

> one'a these days i'll realize that most of you want porn written from the pov of the bottom, but today isnt the day
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/glitchgoats) where i mostly talk about yamato and yamato accessories (read: merchandise)


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